Forget Ginevra
by Kevyn
Summary: Conversations between Ginny Weasley and Tom Riddle after Ginny steals the diary back from Harry Potter. She is Tom's slave: unwilling, yes, but no longer unknowing. Tom has plans, but Ginny wishes he would just forget her. Oneshot. Sequel: Remember Tom


Disclaimer_: This fanfiction is based on the work of J. K. Rowling, "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone". Neither the universe nor the characters belong to me-I only imagined this series of interactions between Ginny Weasley and Tom Marvolo Riddle. Thank you, and enjoy!_

* * *

**Forget Ginerva**

* * *

_You tried to get rid of me, Ginevra._

_No. _A fiery-haired girl sat on her bed, the curtains drawn around her, writing by the light of her wand. _No. It was an accident._

_A book does not find itself in the toilet by accident, my dear. It does not throw itself in._

She laughed, and her laugh had a note of hysteria in it. _One never knows. Books also do not write themselves. Yet here I hold one that does._

_Did you really think you could betray me so easily? _

She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes. _I could never betray you, Tom._

_And yet you have._

_Please forgive me. _She breathed a deep, shaking breath, and raised her quill again. _I know it's me that's doing all those terrible things. You're making me do them._

_How would I do such a thing, silly girl?_

_Don't mock me. You know it's true. I don't know how, but you're doing it. I know you._

_You don't know me, but you have helped me immensely, my dear. I am in your debt._

She paused for a moment, then wrote quickly, as though her nerve would fail her before she finished. _Then release me, Tom, please. I don't want to do this. Please, have mercy, and let me go. Please, Tom, please just _

_No._

_But why? _A single tear fell on the open book and soaked into the page, just as the ink had done. _Please, Tom, I'm begging you, have mercy._

_Don't beg, Ginevra. It's unbecoming of a young pureblood woman._

_What do you want with me? Why have I killed chickens and written messages on the walls in blood?_

_Such curiosity! But I don't believe I shall tell you. You belong to me, and I have no obligation to explain myself to my slave._

_Slave? I am not your slave, Tom Riddle!_

_You will be silent, Ginevra Weasley. If you ever try to rid yourself of me again—or if you try to tell anyone about my diary—you will find yourself over a dead body much more incriminating than that of a chicken._

A long pause.

_Answer me, Ginevra. Never do that again._

_As you wish, Tom._

* * *

_I warned you about telling someone about me._

_I didn't tell anyone. _Her eyes were wide with fear. _I swear I didn't!_

_Ah, but you tried. _

_But I never even said anything!_

_Didn't I warn you of what would happen? Well, didn't I?_

She sighed wearily. _Yes, Tom. But please_

_The time has come, Ginevra. I have grown stronger. But I will give you this mercy—you will not wake over the body of another._

_Thank you. _She wrote warily, suspicious of his motives. _What are you planning, Tom?_

_There is no need for me to explain myself to you, my dear. Just wait. Your questions will be answered soon._

_Tom, I am so tired. Please don't make me do this anymore. _She didn't really expect him to release her, so she wasn't surprised by his reply.

_No, Ginevra. In the meantime, keep silent._

_I'm sorry. _Then, he did surprise her. His next comment was almost kind.

_It will over soon, my dear. Then you can rest._

* * *

She gaped in amazement at the slightly ghostly boy who leaned casually against the wall by the diary. He had beautifully chiseled features and might have been handsome if not for the pure evil she knew he contained.

"You look like a fallen angel," she said finally. She pushed herself to her knees and tried to stand, but fell to the ground, too weak to stand. Amusement flitted across Tom's face. He did not attempt to help her.

"I look like my father," he replied. "And you look like death."

"I suppose I'm dying," she commented. Strangely, she was not as upset as she suspected she ought to have been. He nodded briefly.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I was just a memory before you came along, before you told me all your secrets and desires and opened your heart to me. Now, I can live again. In order to do so, I need your life energy."

She shivered and curled up on the ground. It was so cold in this secret chamber—Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, she was sure.

"Who are you, Tom Riddle, that you would need to live _again_?"

He knelt by her side and brushed a lock of red hair away from her face.

"Why, I'm Lord Voldemort," he said softly.

"Ah," she breathed in understanding. She turned her tired eyes to his ever-more living ones. "Will it hurt, Tom?"

"Just like falling asleep," he promised.

"I'm scared," she whispered. He picked her up and cradled her thin form against his chest.

"I know, my dear. Just go to sleep."

As she slipped into unconsciousness, he laid her near a wall where Potter would be sure to see her when he arrived. It was such a shame, he thought, looking at her, that she had to die. A beautiful pureblood witch, she could have been a great asset.

He looked at his hands, watching them becoming more solid, and then leaned against a wall, a cynical smile twisting his beautiful lips, and waited for Harry Potter.

* * *

Ginny was mildly surprised when she awoke in the hospital wing. For a few brief, confusing seconds, she thought she was in the afterlife, but then she saw the diary—Tom's diary—on the bedside table, a hole burned through it. A pale Harry Potter was asleep in a chair nearby.

"Harry?" she asked, her voice dry and raspy from disuse. He awoke suddenly, startled.

"Ginny!" he exclaimed. "You're awake!"

"Tom?" she asked.

"Gone," Harry assured her. He gestured to the diary. "He vanished after I stabbed the diary with a basilisk fang." She must have managed to look confused, because he rushed to explain. "The monster in the chamber of secrets—it's a basilisk, a huge snake. Riddle could control it because he's a parslemouth, like me." He seemed upset at sharing the trait with Tom.

"He's You-Know-Who."

"Yes, I know." Harry looked troubled. "Look, I'd better go get your family. I managed to get your mum to leave so she could get some sleep—they've all been hovering around." He stood to leave quickly, but turned slightly when she called out to him.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Ginny?"

"Thanks."

He turned bright red. "S'okay. Don't mention it."

A few moments later, her parents and older brothers swamped her, all chattering wildly. She smiled as they jabbered away, and knew that this wouldn't be her last encounter with Tom Riddle. Not if You-Know-Who kept almost coming back to life and attempting to kill Harry. She only wondered if the next time she ran into Lord Voldemort if he would have any recollection of her. She sincerely hoped not.

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**A/N: This story has a sequel, "Remember Tom", which can be found in my profile.**


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